


just say the word

by thirtyspells (weatherveyn)



Series: prompt fics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatherveyn/pseuds/thirtyspells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets written based on prompts from tumblrers. </p><p>Various ships but mostly Sabriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer, for the prompt: "In the Cage they fight most of the time, I want to know what happens when they don't."

The Cage has no walls. The Cage is a void. It goes on forever and traps you not with boundaries but with a lack of them. Lucifer knows you could fly for eternity and never reach an end to it.

And yet, the Cage is impossibly tiny. No matter how carefully he folds himself away, no matter how tight he pulls his wings to himself, he can feel Michael pressed up against him and it’s  _agonising_.

The press of Grace to Grace, wing to wing, is intimate to begin with, but Lucifer hasn’t had any kind of contact - let alone this one - with his brothers since the Fall. They both draw back, trying to pull away, but it’s impossible and their wings brush with even the slightest movement. Lucifer is torn between pressing closer, opening his wings and himself until they’re so tightly entangled they’re almost one being, and tearing chunks out of Michael for pulling away. 

Usually, it’s the latter desire that wins.

They fight, grappling and rending holes in each others’ Grace, using what passes for hands to grab hold of wings and pull just shy of tearing them free.

(There’s one moment, one terrifying, glorious moment where Lucifer has Michael pinned and his hands buried in his wings. Michael is helpless to stop him and Lucifer can feel the mixture of fear and rage and resignation like it’s his own, and he hesitates. Michael throws him off and Lucifer pretends the relief is all his brother’s.)

They fight until they can’t anymore, until they’re so aching and exhausted they can’t even compress themselves, can’t even find the strength to pull away properly. They’ll recover, eventually, and go back to tearing each other apart, but when they’re stripped bare and exhausted, when they’re weakest, Michael lets Lucifer’s tainted Grace patch in the holes in his own, and Lucifer lets Michael’s wings curl around him like a shield until they’re strong enough to deny themselves again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel, for the prompt: "Not established. Museum."

The hunt turns out to be a bust – kids messing around, not a Satanic cult, which is a surprisingly easy mistake to make – but they’ve driven halfway across the country and lately, well. Things have been quiet on the supernatural front, since the apocalypse fizzled out, and they’re both tired. They’re tired because they’ve just spent a lifetime saving people, and then two years saving the world in a more immediate way, and in the wake of that they’re both feeling the  _stop to smell the roses_  vibe.

So Dean takes Cas and makes noise about showing him the fun side of humanity, leaving Sam to his own devices for the afternoon. He spends an embarrassingly long time watching daytime television before he realises he’s actually  _bored_ , which is a novel concept, and gets the laptop out to google local entertainment. There’s the regular touristy crap, which he scrolls past without pause, and some kind of music festival that Sam’s pretty sure Cas and Dean will wind up at no matter how much his brother bitches about indie music, but there’s also a museum. And yeah, okay, Sam can guess exactly which face Dean would be pulling at him for spending his free afternoon at a  _museum_  (the  _dude you are such a fucking nerd_ _and_   _I going to give you shit about it for three states_ face), but Sam hasn’t been to a museum in a non-hunting capacity in years and Dean’s not around to care, so.

The museum is tiny and the woman at the front desk gives him a slightly baffled look when he pays the entry fee, like this is the first time it’s happened and she’s not quite sure how to react, but Sam smiles at her and walks on through. It’s quiet, and he immediately feels like he’s gone back ten years, twenty years, to school field trips and tastes of normality. Most of it is local history stuff, which he gives a vague once-over, but there’s also a sign pointing him down a side hall, claiming to have a special exhibition showing. He doesn’t remember anything about an exhibit on the site, and the hunter part of him is uncoiling slow and predatory, like it senses a threat, but he ignores this and follows the hall.

It’s not until he walks right out into a jungle that looks vaguely tropical and completely alien that he realises exactly what brand of weirdness is going on, and he immediately wants to smack himself in the head. Gabriel is – holy shit, Gabriel is standing in the middle of a prehistoric jungle,  _stroking a dinosaur_  – and after Jurassic Park it takes Sam a moment to realise that the feathered thing Gabriel is casually petting is a  _velociraptor_  – like it’s something he does every day. Hell, maybe he does. Maybe he regularly takes trips back to pre-human time periods and chills with the wildlife.

Sam turns, fully intending to leave, because he’s not in the mood to get chased by dinosaurs or whatever other insane thing Gabriel has planned in the name of entertaining himself, but – of course – the hallway has completely vanished. With a sigh, Sam turns back to the archangel and stares some more – because, okay, there’s a nerd part of him that’s completely freaking out over the  _real live dinosaur_  right in front of him.

“Hey kiddo,” Gabriel calls cheerfully, scritching at the curve of the raptor’s skull, fingers digging enthusiastically into the feathers. “How’s tricks?”

“What are you doing here?” Sam asks, lifting a hand to rub his eyes before dragging it over his face, feeling preemptively exhausted.

“Having mercy,” Gabriel replies, smiling as the raptor makes a pleased trilling sound and nuzzles – nuzzles! – his hand. “Geez, kid. You’ve really got no sense of adventure, do you? Afternoon to do what you want and you pick a museum? Really?”

“It was that, daytime television, or porn,” Sam says dryly, adding pointedly, “And I was looking forward to a _break_  from adventure, actually – can I go back to the museum, now?”

Gabriel dismisses the raptor with a final stroke and swaggers over to Sam, grinning. He looks vibrant and wild, here, with the rich scent of vegetation in the air and sunlight breaking through the high canopy, haloing him in green-gold light. His eyes are bright and liquid, like he’s more alive somehow, and he moves with the same casual grace he always does.

“Aw, c’mon,” Gabriel says, spreading his hands wide and tilting his head, smirking. “We’re just gettin’ started!”

Sam groans. “Gabriel…”

“No, come on,” Gabriel says, more seriously. “Where d’you wanna go? When? This is a live, interactive tour of the past, kiddo, all for you.”

“And when I get captured and sacrificed by Aztecs?”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up, a speculative look on his face, and Sam grimaces – great. Like Gabriel needs help coming up with these things.

“You won’t get sacrificed by Aztecs,” Gabriel assures him, sounding just a little put out. “Make sure to keep all limbs on your archangel and you’ll be perfectly safe. Promise.”

“I’m having Jurassic Park flashbacks,” Sam shoots back, steadfastly ignoring the way his brain tries to go slip-sliding somewhere else entirely at Gabriel’s words. “‘Perfectly safe’ never ends up being ‘perfectly safe’, especially when you’re involved.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Do you ever stop worrying? Look, I’ll take you to watch the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel dry if you want. Just relax and enjoy the ride, for Christ sake!”

“Are you even allowed to blaspheme?”

Gabriel snorts. “I’ve been slumming with the pagans and debauching virgins for a thousand years – somehow I doubt Dad’s gonna care about a little blasphemy compared to that.”

Sam makes an involuntary amused sound and concedes the point, taking a resigned look around the rough clearing they’re standing in before looking back to Gabriel, who is watching him with an easy smile and something soft and patient in his eyes. Sam swallows, feeling a horribly familiar pull in his chest, the vague twinge of affection that comes right before a hard fall, and jams his hands into his pockets like moving will break the moment.

“The Chapel sounds good,” he says, and the rush he feels when Gabriel reaches out to lay a hand on his arm has nothing to do with flying Angel Air. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel, for the prompt: "petting"

It starts – well, it starts because Sam starts noticing the way Gabriel’s eyes gleam, molten gold and dangerous, just before he burns a dozen demons out of their meatsuits. It starts because Sam starts thinking about wings and raw power folded down inside Gabriel’s tiny vessel, and the way it would feel to have Gabriel yielding under him, wrists trapped over his head and control given over freely. It starts because Gabriel shakes the Beautiful Room apart in fury when Zachariah tortures them, wings spread gloriously wide in threat, and when they land back in Bobby’s yard Sam can’t help but haul him in by the collar and drink the taste of that power from his mouth.

It’s crazy, but the world’s ending and Sam’s pretty sure they’re not all coming out the other side in one piece – he’s pretty sure  _he’s_  not coming out the other side at all – so he thinks he’s entitled to a crazy last minute fling. Dean sometimes gives him looks full of pity and disgust, but it’s disgust like he can’t believe it’s  _Gabriel_  Sam’s fucking every night, not like he can’t believe Sam’s fucking Gabriel every night. The pity, Sam thinks, is because Dean thinks Sam’s  _in love_  with Gabriel, somehow – but he’s not. He’s really not.

See, Sam likes fucking. He likes almost-rough and hard and fast, likes the hot-blooded feeling of having someone else curve and bend under him, likes the contradiction of controlling and giving up control in the same action. Even with Jess, the sex had rarely been tender, had rarely been lovemaking in the truest sense – the tenderness came after, when they were lying tangled and Sam wrote a lovestory on her skin with touches, feeling so full of emotion it choked him.

At first Gabriel was careful with him, tried to be slow and gentle like he thought that’s what Sam wanted, but when Sam gripped his hips so hard it bruised  _his_  fingers and bit a mark over the line of his hipbone, Gabriel seemed to get it. After that, it was exactly the way Sam wanted it, exactly the way he likes it – hungry and edged with anger and so hot Sam thinks he’s either going to be destroyed or reborn from it.

Sam had imagined Gabriel would be vocal, but he was surprisingly quiet. He buried his face in Sam’s neck, or between his shoulder-blades, and shuddered and groaned and gasped, but he didn’t speak except to choke out Sam’s name when he came, voice ringing away into one long, high peal of terrible, beautiful sound that made Sam want to cry.

Afterwards, Sam reached out on instinct to touch, to sweep Gabriel’s sweaty hair out of his face, to smooth a thumb along the crows-feet creases at the corner of his eye – and Gabriel recoiled, staring at Sam with such a strange look of incredulity, like he can’t believe Sam dared to be so familiar, that Sam pulls back immediately.

So, yeah. It doesn’t mean anything. They fuck, and then Sam falls asleep to the sound of Gabriel breathing and wakes up alone. They don’t touch afterwards, but they sometimes argue or banter or Gabriel tells him about some creature humans still haven’t discovered – he’s not sure if they’re real things or if Gabriel’s spinning stories for him, but the sound of his voice is soothing and more than once he falls asleep under its power.

They don’t talk about the fight that’s coming, or the grace period that’s running out, but Sam can mark time by counting the bruises Gabriel leaves him with – they get darker as the clock ticks down.

Slowly, Sam gets so comfortable with Gabriel he forgets. He forgets that it’s nothing. He forgets that Gabriel doesn’t want him reaching out, doesn’t want the affectionate touches, and finds himself with his hands carding through Gabriel’s hair on instinct. The first time it happens Sam doesn’t even realise until Gabriel goes utterly still and silent. For a long moment, they stare at each other, hovering on the edge of a shared breath, and then Gabriel closes his eyes and turns into Sam’s hand, mouth pressed to the pulsepoint of his wrist like acceptance.

In another way, it starts then, because Gabriel lets Sam stroke and pet and run his fingers through the hair at the back of Gabriel’s head, thumb in the little dip where his neck meets his skull. It starts because Gabriel lets him draw him in for a kiss that feels like a first one, all exploration and carefulness.

It starts because Sam builds a catalogue of Gabriel’s smiles and learns the difference between them the way he learned the tone of Dean’s silences as a child. It starts because Sam lets Gabriel bind him down and spread him open, utterly vulnerable, lets Gabriel drag  _yes_  after  _yes_  out of him and trusts the archangel not to break him apart with the word.

It starts because Gabriel looks at him through the dark one night and says,  _don’t say yes_ , and the next day Sam does it anyway, because the alternative is watching Gabriel be torn apart.

It starts because Gabriel shreds his wings apart pulling him free of Lucifer before the Cage can close, and then kisses him like it was worth it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer, for the prompt: "Michifer or Samifer, with Lucifer being jealous or protective."

With Sam gone, Lucifer has nothing to distract him from Michael. Michael, who has retreated as far from Lucifer as he can, who has buried that ugly little human soul deep inside himself and wrapped his wings in tight to protect it. Lucifer hates it. He hates the way little Adam Milligan’s soul is bleeding into his brother’s Grace, hates the way Michael’s beautiful, steely Grace is going soft at the edges, the way he’s shining, bright and thin like the grey light of pre-dawn.

Lucifer drives his wings under Michael’s, forcing them open and away as his Grace wraps around his brother, seeking out weak places to burrow in. It’s like finding the grooves where scales meet and hooking fingernails under them, like forcing water through hairline fractures. Lucifer can feel Michael splitting open under him and feels at once victorious and sick - his brother should not be this weak.

Michael struggles violently, twisting and shoving but unable to fight back properly without exposing the human’s soul. His wings beat against Lucifer’s hard enough to snap the more delicate bones, dragging grunts of pain from the older archangel. Lucifer snarls, furious that his brother is so determined to protect this pathetic little  _scrap_  that he would risk himself, and digs in until he feels something start to crack open.

“You’ve got human stink all over you,” Lucifer hisses, flaring his Grace until it burns nova bright and hot.

Michael  _screams_  and Lucifer doesn’t care, just presses deeper. The feeling of Michael’s Grace on his, burning hot and beautiful, is so familiar it hurts – but there’s a bitterness there, an oiliness that has to come from that soul. It makes him sick with loathing, to feel that impurity, to feel someone else’s mark on Michael’s Grace, and all he can think to do is destroy it, to tear it out.

“You should have burned him out,” Lucifer breathes as Michael finally shifts and fights back. Michael grips tight, tearing a chunk of Lucifer’s Grace away and shoving them both away from the Cage wall. Lucifer cries out, but that movement leaves Michael exposed and Lucifer slides deeper, closer to the hot little pulse of Adam Milligan’s soul. Michael is furious and beautiful and sharp, just like Lucifer remembers him.

“Lucifer,” Michael gasps out. “Don’t. Don’t – I promised him–”

“He’s all through you, Michael. He’s ruining you,  _tainting_  you, making you  _weak_.” Lucifer flexes his wing, pressing the outer curve of it into the inside of Michael’s in a caress that makes his brother choke out a scream. “All over you – that used to be me. Do you remember when all of Heaven knew you were mine? You were  _drenched_  in me, in my Grace. Do you remember what that felt like? Do you remember what it was like to be almost one creature?”

Lucifer’s Grace slides in that final inch, curving around Adam’s soul and cradling it gently for one final moment as Michael rages against him, voice rising in a long, terrible scream -

And then he snuffs it out. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel, for the prompt: "flying"

Sam was dreaming. It was the same dream he’d had every night since the Elysian Fields Hotel – the one where there was nothing but an open sky and the ground falling away beneath him, a breeze tucking itself neatly under his wings and bearing him up. He could feel the powerful muscles of his wings shifting as he angled them on instinct, feathers making minute adjustments to cut the air more cleanly. He dipped one wing, turning himself into a lazy downward spiral before levelling out to skim through the air again.

It was so early the world was still dark, the sun a sliver of blood-red light along the horizon and the earth below sketched out in shadows like a charcoal drawing, but Sam could make out the vague suggestion of a forest passing beneath him. As the sun rose, he watched the trees start to thin until they bled almost seamlessly into a field of high, wild grass that glittered gold with dew and sunlight.

He was vaguely aware that there was some threat looming, something he should be worried about, but it all seemed so distant and unimportant compared to the glory of flight and the thrill of anticipation gathering in his spine. He was searching for something – no, he was  _chasing_  something. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye, or saw it disappear ahead of him, but it was always gone by the time he angled himself to follow, leaving only an echo of delighted laughter that was quickly snatched away by the wind.

Sam flew without any real goal in mind aside from catching up with the elusive flicker of gold, the terrain changing until the smooth fields became gradually steeper, interspersed with outcroppings of grey-white rock and the occasional silver gleam of a stream. When he passed a lake, he dipped low and skimmed across the surface, admiring the pale, glossy underside of his wings and trying to count the brown speckles there. His primaries brushed the glassy surface as he flapped higher again, feeling his muscles burn slightly from the effort.

And always, just when he had given up on catching sight of his quarry again, it would appear before him with its enormous wings spread wide enough to hold the sky up, laughing like the wind as they dipped and circled each other. It would flee again, but slow enough for Sam to give chase, and sometimes it would even let Sam catch up enough to brush their wingtips together before surging ahead again.

It was only ever when he woke with Gabriel’s name caught in his throat that he realised who he had been chasing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Anna, for the prompt: "What does Dean think?"

Honestly? Dean sees it coming from a mile away.

He sees the way Sam seems to curve around her when they’re standing together, less like protection or gravity’s pull, and more like the way dogs circle each other when they meet for the first time — shy, hopeful, curious. He sees the way Anna pushes into Sam’s space, gentle but undeniable, like the wind against your chest or the pressure of the ocean. The first time he catches Sam taking Anna’s hand in his to still the perpetual shaking, he snorts quietly and looks away.

Because, yeah, it’s weird, especially after Ruby, but the goddamn world is ending and somehow they’re making each other smile despite it, so as far as Dean’s concerned, it’s good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samifer, for the prompt: "What was the first time Lucifer bottomed like?"

Sam doesn’t ask for weeks — first because he’s trying to pretend he’s not fucking the devil while the world slowly burns down around them, and second because he doesn’t think there’s any point in it. Lucifer is arrogant and powerful and the antithesis of submissive.

But when Sam shoves Lucifer away, rolls him onto his back and pins his wrists by his head, Lucifer only looks up with curiosity and something like amusement. His eyes are dark and his mouth is bitten-red, tugged up at one corner in a dare or maybe permission.

Sam doesn’t ask because Lucifer never asked, and the question is there in the way Sam flips him on his belly and hitches his thighs apart. The answer is in Lucifer rocking back on Sam’s fingers when he fucks him open for the first time, swearing and biting deep bruises into his back while Lucifer breathes,  _Yes, Sam. Yes, yes_ , over and over until it sounds like a reminder of who they are and where this is all leading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clarify, this is set in the early Endverse timeline, before Sam says 'yes'.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Anna, for the prompt: "How does Anna say 'Goodbye, this is my last day on earth' to Sam?"

The night before Sam says ‘yes’ to Lucifer, Anna says goodbye to him. She breathes it into his mouth between one kiss and the next, and presses it into his skin with her fingertips like an apology.

He holds her tight like he can stop time from tearing them apart, and when they move together it feels as though the heat will fuse them like glass. Her mouth is a firebrand and her hands leave bruises on his wrists and when he winds his fingers through her hair she bends to him with no hesitation. 

He thinks she’s saying goodbye because he’s leaving her come morning, but the way she smiles at Lucifer-him in the cemetery as she burns out of her skin makes him think maybe she knew it would be the other way around.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel, for the prompt: "Who controls the TV remote, and who gets last-sweet-in-the-packet privileges?"

Sam learns quickly enough that it doesn’t matter who has the remote — Gabriel has control of the TV.

It should have occurred to him sooner, but it’s not until they’re arguing about whether to watch some stupid cooking show or Discovery Channel and Gabriel locks the TV on the cooking channel that Sam realises how “phenomenal cosmic powers” can impact his life outside of the bedroom.

Sam scowls and sits through the cooking show even though there’s a half-finished novel sitting at the bottom of his duffel bag, calling his name. Gabriel rewards him by pressing the last of the caramel creams to Sam’s mouth, and kissing him to share the taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets last-sweet-in-the-packet privileges because Gabriel likes hand-feeding him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel, for the prompt: "First kiss?"

Sam’s half asleep, hair freshly wet from a shower, and sitting on the edge of his motel bed in the semi-dark. Instead of leaving for somewhere more interesting, like Sam expects, Gabriel unfolds himself from his ostentatiously large, plush armchair and crosses the room to stand before him. Sam wants to say something, but Gabriel’s gaze is dark and heavy and the weight of it pushes all the air out of Sam’s lungs before he can speak.

When Gabriel kisses him, he dips his head and tilts Sam’s up by the jaw, fingers gentle against the soft place just below his ears. It’s not playful, or rough, or tender, or any of the things Sam might have expected kissing Gabriel to be — it’s slow, thoughtful, like Gabriel is asking himself a question.

The second kiss comes a moment later, with Sam dragging Gabriel’s lip between his teeth, and Gabriel laughing into his mouth like he’s found the shape of the perfect answer hidden under Sam’s tongue.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel, for the prompt: "Who made the first move towards sex, or was it a mutual decision?"

For all his teasing and flirting and casual ass-smacks, it’s not Gabriel who makes the first move, in the end. Sam’s kind of grateful, because after everything with Ruby, and everything with  _Gabriel_ , he’s wary. He likes Gabriel — he honestly does, which is a new kind of insane even for him — but there’s a lot of history weighing against them, on both sides. 

So, for months, it’s Gabriel flirting and being handsy in a way that just skirts the edges of inappropriate, whisking him away to obscure corners of the world where things are strange and beautiful and sometimes bustling with life and sometimes so quiet Sam falls asleep with Gabriel sitting by his head, leaning back to look at the sky.

After a while, Sam flirts back without thinking, because it’s fun and he likes the way Gabriel’s smile gets a fraction more genuine when he does — but Gabriel doesn’t so much as try to kiss him until Sam rolls him on his back in the wild, sweet grass of some untouched hillside.

Later, Sam asks why and Gabriel laughs.

“Was waitin’ for you to catch up, kiddo. I wanted you to want it as much as I did.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel, for the prompt: "Which one pines when the other is away?"

As it turns out, being viceroy of Heaven is as stressful and time-consuming as Gabriel had made it out to be — which, given the volume and frequency of his bitching, Sam hadn’t thought possible. At best, they go days without seeing each other, but it’s usually weeks and one time, memorably, more than a month.

It’s a little lonely, and sometimes it makes something behind his breastbone ache, but Sam’s used to this. Jess had been the only person besides Dad and Dean he got to live with, to keep close and cherish, so Gabriel being gone so often doesn’t bother him that much. It sucks, but he’s got things to do, too, and he deals.

Gabriel, though, blows back into his life at random with the force and fury of a small storm. He’s always snappish and sulky and tries to pull Sam closer and push him away in the same movement, and it’s not until Sam huffs an irritated breath into his hair and digs his fingers in between the archangel’s shoulder-blades that Gabriel settles.

He never says ‘I missed you’, but when Sam mutters it into the dark, Gabriel always stays ‘til morning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Adam/Michael/Lucifer, for the prompt: "Are there any quiet/tender moments in the Cage?"

Sam didn’t grow up in a family that was big on physical affection, but there’s only so long you can go without human contact before it starts to make you ache, starts to make you desperate. When Michael and Lucifer finally subside after long, long years, Grace burning low from exhaustive fighting, Sam and Adam curl together on the freezing floor of the Cage and shuck their clothes.

Adam kisses him and it’s like the first shot of warmth after being immersed in cold water — it burns but Sam is so, so  _cold_  and he  _wants_. Adam’s tongue is slick and hot and Sam opens to him without thought, kisses back until Adam’s mouth goes soft and easy under his, full of small, desperate sounds and the clean taste of heat.

Sam can’t think past the sensation, past the desperate longing for contact that leaves him shaking with its intensity. There’s loneliness yawning behind his ribs, deep and endless, and he’s not sure how much of it is him and how much of it is Lucifer. Their minds are overlapping, the control of their body shifting back and forth without resistance. He’s not sure it it’s him who rocks into the slick hollow of Adam’s hip, biting, mouthing, sucking at the throb of his pulse, or if it’s Lucifer. He’s not sure if it’s Adam who fists his hands in Sam’s hair and bares his throat, but he knows it’s Michael who kisses them like he’s grieving.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midam, for the prompt: "What did Dean think? And Sam?"

Adam expects Dean to be the most vocally opposed to him taking up with Michael — and he is.

But months go by and Dean goes from giving explosive rants and threatening Michael with holy oil in a way that makes Castiel nervous, to somehow managing to simultaneously ignore Michael and glare holes into the back of his head, to finally, grudgingly, accepting his presence.

Sam is a completely different matter. The day Adam tells them, Sam is quietly concerned and takes Adam aside to ask him, gently, if he’s  _sure_ , if this is what he wants or if he’s being coerced, if it’s about wanting or about needing. There’s an uncomfortable conversation about the bleak, hollow feeling Adam carries behind his ribs — the one Sam doesn’t say he has too but describes so well that there’s no way he doesn’t — and then Sam shrugs and accepts his choice.

Or so Adam thinks.

Years will go by and Dean will grow used to Michael — even come to like him — but Sam will never be able to look at him, watch him kiss Adam, and not remember Lucifer. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel, for the prompt: "dancing in the rain"

When Sam wakes, he doesn’t immediately realise what’s wrong. There’s rain bucketing down outside, hitting the ancient roof at a dull roar that leaves him vaguely concerned it might leak. It wasn’t raining when he fell asleep, but the storm had been threatening all day, so he’s not exactly surprised. They’re too far from any main roads for streetlights and the clouds have blotted out the moon and stars, plunging the world into an inky darkness so deep Sam feels blind.  

It’s not until he rolls onto his side to run his fingers down Gabriel’s spine as he sleeps (because Gabriel’s a heathen like that – he likes sleep) that he realises the archangel is missing.

Immediately, Sam is wide awake and it’s jarring. After two years of peace, of hunting only every other weekend, Sam’s managed to relax enough that he doesn’t wake up all at once anymore. It’s partly because his days now consist of community college classes and lazy hours spent feeding each other fruit salad, but a larger part of it is because he trusts Gabriel on a fundamental level – trusts him to be able to protect Sam when he’s got his guard down.

And Gabriel’s gone.

Gabriel is never gone. Gabriel is always there when Sam wakes up.

Suddenly he’s dragged back years, to Lucifer’s laughter curling in his ear as another moment of peace is ripped away, to soap-bubble realities and fragile sanity. He can’t help but have one panicked moment of wondering if it’s all been some wonderful delusion, one resigned moment of  _of course_ , but then his shaking fingers find the raised mark on his hip and all the terror shudders out of him on a single breath.

Calmer now, he can feel the reassuring thrum of Gabriel’s mind down the connection between them. There’s a sense of joy and serenity washing over him in gentle pulses that Sam hasn’t felt from his mate since the bond was first established, and he echoes it without thinking. His sense of Gabriel ripples, almost surprised, and then he feels something like a tug – like beckoning.

Sam slips out of bed, fumbling on the floor for his boxers before giving up in exasperation. It’s summer and there’s no-one but Gabriel around to see him as he pads through their quiet house, listening to the rain and the sound of his own footsteps muffled by the carpet. He navigates around the furniture by memory, blind in the dark, and follows the playful tugging on their connection out the front door, onto the porch.

For a moment he can’t see anything at all, but then the air is full of tiny pinpricks of golden light, like someone’s pulled down all the stars in the sky to light up their yard. They hover in midair, their glow wobbling as the raindrops catch the light and distort it.

Gabriel is standing in the rain in nothing but his jeans, barefoot and skin gleaming with water and reflected light. It’s honestly the most beautiful sight Sam has ever seen, not least because of the white wings curved high over the archangel’s head, so huge they dwarf his small vessel. They look almost sharp, almost dangerous, and Sam can’t help but think it’s more fitting than soft, fluffy wings. Angels are glory and light but they’re also soldiers, also weapons.

No matter how many times Sam sees Gabriel’s wings, he never stops being awed.

“Well! Look at you,” Gabriel calls out, the appreciative slide of his eyes over Sam’s body visible even from this distance. One of his wings twitches, sending a shower of raindrops sideways. “Up for some outdoor sex, Sammy? ‘Cause walking around like that looks like an invitation.”

“What are you  _doing_?” Sam asks instead, staring as Gabriel’s wings shiver, feathers fluffing out.

He swallows hard, watching the motion ripple from base to tip the way it does when Gabriel’s shaking on the edge of orgasm. Gabriel’s tilting his head back, hair dark and slick with water and raindrops rolling down his throat. There’s a smirk curling the corner of his mouth like he knows exactly what this is doing to Sam – which he does, thanks to the bond. Dick.

“Dancing in the rain,” Gabriel replies, lowering both wings before snapping them up again, flared wide so Sam can see the glossy underside. “Gonna join me?”

“I don’t have wings,” Sam says, but steps off the porch onto the wet grass, earning a bright flare of happiness through the bond.

“Well, we can’t all be perfect,” Gabriel replies seriously, reaching out to touch the mark on Sam’s hip in the same possessive way he always does. “But we’ll work something out.”


End file.
